The Ballad of a Healer and a Gunman
by writer writing
Summary: Sister Ruth and Kid Cole wonder what it would've been like if they'd met when they were younger. Set in 1828. Although it's an AU story, some of the folks of Colorado Springs will make appearances.
1. Chapter 1

Kid Cole and Sister Ruth lay basking in the afterglow of having marked their one year anniversary.

"You ever wonder what would've happened if we'd met earlier in our lives?" she asked suddenly.

He took a few seconds to genuinely consider it then he said, "It's hard to say. I had a reputation for being a gun fighter by the time I was 18; it's how I got the nickname Kid, and it was too much for a kid to handle. The stress that came with it made me pick up some vices I shouldn't have. Vices I had all but dropped by the time you met me. No, you wouldn't have liked me then."

"Let's see, when you was 18, I would've been about 20. You wouldn't have liked me then either. That's when I first came out west. I thought I was going to set the whole wild land on fire for God, and like most young people, I thought I had life all figured out. Romance was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I'd made up my mind that I was going to be celibate to have the strength of ministry that Paul had."

He grinned as he thought of how they'd just celebrated their anniversary. She certainly wasn't celibate now. He took in the familiar scent of her skin, a combination of soap and fresh bread that worked together to make a heady aroma. "I bet we would've butted heads alright. We most likely met at just the right time for the both of us."

"Still, I wonder what would've happened if we'd have crossed paths back then…"

1828

Ruth ached from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes. Even her teeth hurt. Riding in a stagecoach was no picnic with its jolting up and down motion. She planned on it being quite a while before she used her backside again.

It had been a long, hard journey, but she hadn't run into some of the typical problems found on the Santa Fe Trail like robberies and Indian raids, an outright miracle. God was obviously watching out for her.

Santa Fe looked nothing like the sleepy, little mountain community she was from, but after traveling through land so flat and treeless that it made her feel exposed, the mountains were somewhat of a relief even if they weren't like the mountains of home. They were great big things with jagged, snow-covered peaks instead of the rounded, unimposing, little mountains that had nestled her safely in its hollows for the first 20 years of her life. She had to admit though that the land did have an untamed sort of beauty to it even if it didn't have the richness of good farmland.

The differences didn't stop with the landscape. The buildings were old and made mostly of adobe. The town wasn't put out in an altogether attractive layout either. It was like the buildings had been thrown together haphazardly.

It was the people though that fascinated her the most. She could hear snatches of Spanish conversation for the first time in her life. She could see a small number of American men in the numbers that were walking or riding in the street, but they were clearly men who'd not had the civilizing effect of good, Christian women in quite a while, traders mostly and men in cowboy hats with guns around their waists. There were a few brown-skinned women, and she was startled to see that 1 or 2 of them were smoking cigarettes right out there in full view although it was plain to see they were respectable in every other way.

It all served to make her realize she was in a whole other world. She had heard Santa Fe meant Holy Faith, and she hoped that there was some truth to it and that it would be easy to find some fellow believers. She could see a church in the distance, leading her to believe there had to be godly people in the community, and even if there weren't, this was why she'd come out here to help hurting souls and bodies. Even so, she couldn't help but wonder if she was out of her element here and if this was really what God intended for her as a wave of homesickness swept over her.

It was too late to question it though. She was down to next to nothing in terms of cash, so there would be no going back, at least not right away. She took a deep intake of breath, and she may have been crazy but even the air felt different here.

Eyes followed her as she started down the street. She was as unusual a sight to them as they were to her. She ignored it the best she could as she sought out the general store, figuring that the owner might be able to direct her to a decent boardinghouse.

She hadn't taken many steps before the crack of a pistol rang out. She froze in her tracks, turning to search out the source of the gunshot. A tall, young man in dark clothing stood in the street with the smoking gun in hand. Another man lay crumpled not 12 feet in front of him, his blue shirt rapidly staining from the gunshot wound he'd just received, and the worst thing was that although many had scrambled for cover, no one seemed all that surprised.

No, this definitely wasn't home.


	2. Chapter 2

The man put his gun back in his holster and the people of Santa Fe resumed their normal business as if nothing had happened. Ruth went running over to the fallen man. She fell to her knees, opened her satchel, and applied a handkerchief to the wound in an attempt to stem the flow of blood as her lips moved in a silent prayer for his healing.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Was he your husband?" His voice was deep and solemn with a tinge of regret.

"Never laid eyes on him before, least ways not until you laid him low with a bullet."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. The way she was carrying on, he would've bet she was a cousin at least. "You don't know him?"

She felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one. "He's still alive. No thanks to you."

"You think I wanted to shoot him?" he asked, irritation entering his voice. "I didn't. The blame cuss drew and left me with no choice."

"You ain't done enough damage for one day? You got to riddle the air with foul language too?"

He didn't know what to say to that. She had turned her head toward him to cast a pointed gaze, allowing him to see her eyes for the first time. He had never seen such a shade of blue; he could've become lost in their depths if those same eyes didn't look so accusatory. She was making him feel like the bug he'd seen a child playing with this morning; the boy had driven his mother's sewing needle right through its center, pinning it to the ground and watching it squirm.

"Well, you going to let him bleed to death in the street or you going to help me get him to a doctor?" she demanded. Though she phrased it as a question, the hard look on her face said she didn't see he had a choice in the matter.

He sighed. He hadn't intended on just leaving him in the street, whether he was alive or dead, not that she'd given him a chance to tell her any of that, but he figured he might as well save his breath for the task ahead.

He grunted as he lifted the man up. The man had at least a good 50 pounds on him. It was going to be a struggle getting him there. There was no doubt he was going to have to drag him, but the slip of a woman got on the other side of the injured man, easing him of some of the weight. She was certainly no delicate, fainting female. He had thought she would have been content to know that he was going to take care of the situation and have left him in peace, but he should have known he wasn't going to be shed of the woman that easy.

"The doc's that way," he informed her, using his head to point toward the right.

It was slow going, but the clinic drew closer.

"The name's Kid Cole by the way just in case you were wondering." It was an effort to speak as he was still bearing the brunt of the man's weight.

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cole, but under the circumstances it ain't."

With a bleeding, unconscious man being borne up between them and with the tongue lashing he'd received from her, it seemed like they ought to have introduced themselves before now, but she didn't return the favor.

Before they got up the steps, a heavyset Latin man, who was taking it easy on a porch connected to the building beside the clinic, called out in a thick accent, "The doc is in, but the muchacho is drunk." He shaped his hand like a bottle to illustrate his point, in case, his English hadn't been clear enough.

"Is he sober enough to look at a gun wound?" Kid Cole asked.

"The answer is sadly no. You may as well take him down to the funeraria if you let him near your friend."

"Is there nobody else that can take care of it?" Ruth asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Does not look like he can wait long."

It was true. She couldn't hold steady pressure to his wound in his upright position, and he was losing a lot of blood.

"Well, I hope you're happy, Mr. Cole," she said.

"Can I control the man's drinking?" he retorted. "We can take him to my hotel room and he can have a comfortable place to lay until we track somebody down who can do something. It's only a little further down the street." To the man, he said, "Gracias, señor."

They made it to the hotel room through no small effort, and it was a great relief to be able to put him down on the bed.

"Is there a sheriff in this town?" she asked.

"No, and I ain't never been more happy of that fact cause I think you're dying to be my judge, jury, and executioner."

Her eyes narrowed. "I was thinking he might have some experience with gunshot wounds. But you're right; a little time behind bars might help you take stock of your life."

He snorted.

"My grandma was a healer and a midwife, and I learned a little bit from her. It ain't the same as being a doctor, but we are in a pinch."

On those words, she took her bonnet and traveling cloak off. Then she rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, affording him the opportunity to take a really good look at her. It wasn't just her eyes that were beautiful. Her thick, wavy hair was a medium shade of brown with coppery glints thrown in, she had full, kissable lips, and even in the modest dress she wore he could tell it hid a shapely figure. It was a real shame to him that such an ornery personality came with the package.

She swiftly unbuttoned the man's shirt. The bullet had hit his shoulder and had gone cleanly through, leaving an entrance and exit wound. She opened the satchel she carried, lifting out a Bible and digging under some clothing items until she pulled out a small poke that held a needle and some thread.

"You got liquor on you?" she asked with an outstretched hand.

She seemed to know that he would have and he wished he could've had the satisfaction of proving her wrong, but he pulled the small, narrow flask out of his pocket and gave it to her. She used it to douse the wound.

She scrunched her nose as she threaded the needle and he smiled at the cuteness of it.

"Lord, help me not to kill this man," she prayed out loud.

At first, Kid wondered if she was talking about him but then realized she was talking about the man she was about to sew up.

"It wouldn't hurt if you could send up a prayer too," she said, wincing as she drew the needle into the man's flesh.

"We ain't on speaking terms," he said quietly.

"You mean you ain't on speaking terms. God's always ready to listen and speak if we'll let Him."

"Fine. I ain't on speaking terms with Him then."

She looked disappointed if not surprised, but she had become too concentrated on her task to carry on anymore of a conversation.

He left to go see about getting another room. When he got back, she had finished and was turning the water in the basin a pink color as she washed the blood from her hands.

"Is he going to make it?" he asked.

"Looks that way. He's going to have a pretty mean scar though. I ain't never had to stitch flesh together before, but the bleeding stopped."

"That's good."

"Keep an eye on him. It don't look like your bullet hit anything too important, but there's always the chance he could get a fever from it. In which case, you'll have to get the doctor, drunk or not."

"Now wait a minute, lady. I've done the Good Samaritan thing by giving him this room. I ain't going to be his wet nurse."

"Except the Good Samaritan wasn't the one who injured the man in the first place."

"You got me there, but I did what I had to do, which was more than he deserved. And now I've done it. But you can rest assured that I'll see the doc has a look at him when he sobers up." He tipped his hat. "Goodbye, ma'am."

She watched him leave. It appeared he had some gentlemanly ways about him. For a lowdown, inconsiderate snake, she added.


	3. Chapter 3

Kid Cole sat on the corner of the bed in his new room fuming.

He knew the woman was going to sit in there with the wounded man at least until he came to and probably longer. She obviously had little experience with the darker side of life because in her mind, Kid was a notorious outlaw and yet she'd gone with him alone into his hotel room. That worried him because a naïve woman like that was going to find herself in more trouble than she could handle, and he had no idea who the man was that he'd shot, but he was clearly out to make a name for himself by being able to brag that he'd shot and killed Kid Cole in a draw, which didn't exactly recommend himself to being left alone with a pretty lady if he valued human life so little. Gun wound or no gun wound, the man could still be a danger and his conscience wouldn't allow him to ignore the situation as much as he wanted to. His mother had done her job too well in that department.

Reluctantly, he went back to the door of his old room and his fist lingered a few moments before it came down on the wooden door.

It didn't take her any time at all to answer it. Her eyes widened to see him standing there. "I thought you'd done washed your hands of the affair, Mr. Cole."

"I changed my mind," he said, coming into the room and shutting the door behind him, "and I don't think there's any reason to act like we're in some fancy parlor back east. I never was one for all those senseless rules of society. Just call me Kid."

That was one point on which she happened to agree with him though their reasoning may have been different. Family didn't stand on ceremony and to her way of thinking with the heavenly Father as maker of the human race there were no true strangers and no need for fancy titles. "And you can call me Ruth."

"So you do have a name then," he said with the barest hint of a smile.

"Never said I didn't," she said, taking a seat on the one chair the room afforded. She had evidently been reading before he came in as her Bible was open. She picked it up again and all but ignored his presence.

Sure she would say something if he disturbed the rest of her "patient" by taking a seat anywhere on the bed, he took a seat on the stone-cold floor.

He observed her closely. She held the book in her hands as if it were a delicate treasure, reading it intently. The passionate, hunger-filled look as she read made him want to ask her what passage she was reading. His mother had seen to it that their family had read the Bible together daily, but he hadn't gotten from it what Ruth was obviously getting from it. He shifted uncomfortably but not solely because of the floor: watching her lips move was making the room seem very warm. The thoughts and feelings he was having made him uneasy. He tried to chase the uneasiness away by striking up a conversation with her.

"You're not from Santa Fe." He looked over at her satchel. "And you're freshly arrived it looks like. You meeting up with some kinfolk here?"

She looked up at him suspiciously, and on second thought, he realized it did sound like he was fishing for information that a person up to no good would fish for.

"I'm well-taken care of if that's what you're driving at," she answered.

"Don't mean to pry. I was just asking if you got a place to stay. Not that I'm inviting you to stay with me," he added when he saw her jaw drop. "I was just going to say I know of a good boardinghouse."

Her face visibly relaxed. "Well, good. I was on my way to find one before your gunfight broke out. You seem to know your way around here; do you know where I can find me a wagon?"

He cocked his head "What do you want with a wagon?"

"I ain't staying in Santa Fe forever. I'm going to proclaim the Word of the Lord throughout the west. The Lord is coming and there ain't enough people out here that know it. There ain't enough doctors out here either. I want to show fellow believers that having faith in God to take care of their situation can bring the healing they need."

"Ah, so you're one of them fanatics trying to tell everybody you know when Jesus is coming back then."

"Of course not. No man know the hour, but even if He doesn't come in our lifetime, we ain't going to escape the world alive. We need to always be ready to meet our Savior like He was coming today because there's no guarantee of tomorrow."

Not wanting a theological debate, he changed the subject back to the more pressing issue in his mind. "So who's going to proclaim the Word of the Lord with you? You ain't going to go all over this land alone, are you?"

"If I'm in the Lord's will, He'll keep me safe," she said confidently.

"You're plum crazy. The west is crawling with unsavory characters because there's no strong law enforcement out here, not to mention there's Indians just looking to settle the score with the white man, and if the humans don't get you, the wild animals surely will. Do you even carry a gun?"

"I don't want to be put in the position of having to take someone's life. The only weapon I need is the Sword of the Spirit," she said, patting her Bible.

Before he could respond any further to her foolhardiness there was a moan from the bed. The man stirred and they both went over to his bedside. The man suddenly jerked straight up. "Where am I? What happened?"

"You got shot and you're in Mr. Cole's hotel room," Ruth answered him gently.

He seemed to be recalling the events leading up to his injury and then he looked at Kid Cole with a glare. "You trying to finish me off in private?"

"Naw, if I was going to finish you off, I'd want everybody to see it in broad daylight."

"Well, I'm getting out of here," he said, throwing back the covers and standing up though it was obvious his shoulder pained him. He picked up his gun belt that was laying on the small table.

"You ought not to be up for awhile," Ruth said, blocking his path. "You're going to pull your stitches loose."

"Get out of my way, lady, before I push you out of the way," the man snarled.

"This lady here saved your sorry hide," Kid said, grabbing a hold of the man's bloodied collar. "You might have bled to death without her and you ain't even going to thank her for it."

"Thanks," he grumbled in her direction. To Kid Cole, he said, "You ain't heard the last of this."

"I didn't think I had," he said, letting go of his shirt.

The door to the hotel room opened and slammed shut pretty hard for his injury.

"That poor soul," was all she said.

She said it with such sorrow and love that it completely astounded him and he looked at her with a look of frustration. "You been treating me like I'm some kind of villain and he gets to be a poor soul just because I'm faster?"

"Any soul is poor who's not rich in God."

"Spare your pity," he said, feeling disgruntled. "Follow me, and I'll show you the way to the boardinghouse."

She gathered up her satchel and he walked her out to the street and pointed in the direction of the boardinghouse. "Keep going straight and you'll see a church with 2 crosses sitting on the roof. It's on that side, 3rd house from the right. Nice lady by the name of Rosa runs it."

"It's right nice of you helping me out this way. Thank you and thanks for coming back."

She started to move in the direction he had pointed out, but he stopped her by saying, "I could've shot to kill you know." He had no idea why he felt the need to tell her that, but he did.

"I know, but it shouldn't have happened in the first place. If you ask me, men ain't got no business carrying guns. They treat them like toys."

"I suppose we ought to give them over to the womenfolk," he said, making no effort to mask his annoyance.

"Heavens, no. Might be even more dangerous. They're bound to want to shoot the menfolk and then where would the human race be?"

He was stunned until he realized by her grin that she was teasing. He smiled too and then watched her head down the road for a little while. He had to admit he was amused by her and even admired her though they rubbed each other the wrong way more often than not. She wasn't all starch and piety as he'd first assumed. There was a streak of humor in there, raw courage, and there was no denying she had a good heart to care so much for a total stranger and then to keep caring when that stranger had turned out to be totally lacking in respect or gratitude. She was the kind of woman a man could settle down with and the kind of woman he was looking to avoid at all costs. He turned around; glad they were heading in opposite directions.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of lively piano music wafted through the air along with the smoke. Kid had already had a few drinks and was now working on a cigarette to soothe his nerves as he played a game of poker. Best of all, he had a pretty woman on his lap; she was olive skinned with almond-colored eyes and raven black hair, tall for a woman of her heritage. Her accented speech was honey toned as she whispered what she would do for him in the privacy of her room. All these distractions should have made him forget the events of the day or more specifically made him forget a bigmouthed brunette. Yet, he kept replaying the moments he had spent with her in his head.

As if thinking about her could conjure her up, the woman came through the swinging doors of the saloon, and the cigarette about fell from his mouth. She was a strange enough sight in this town, but she was even stranger inside of a saloon. Not that there wasn't the occasional angry senora that came in to drag her husband out by the ear, but that was hardly the same as a young, uncorrupted, white lady coming into the place.

She didn't seem to know the danger she was in by being in a saloon as the insane woman actually wore a smile, and it wasn't the world-weary, bleak, painted smile he had grown used to seeing in the company he kept; it was a warm smile that actually reached her eyes and made a person want to share the smile.

He was motionless until her eyes locked with his and then unexpected shame filled him. He had the perplexing feeling that he'd been caught cheating. He shoved the woman from his lap as gently as he could, but she flounced off clearly offended by the action. He didn't go after her because there was only one woman he was focused on at the moment.

He strode up to Ruth and asked, "What in the blue blazes are you doing in here?"

She frowned. "I don't like that term, Kid. Hell is a real and terrible place and shouldn't be referred to lightly."

"My apologies, but in case you ain't noticed, you didn't exactly walk into a church."

She did notice as her eyes roamed around the room. Before he had joined her, there had been quite a few lecherous or plain malicious stares thrown her way. Now with Kid Cole hovering over her, everybody seemed to go back to minding their own business, but it was business that included sin in a majority of cases. "So I see." She studied his person as if she were meeting him for the first time. "And that was a right nice boardinghouse you sent me to. Rosa and I already get along famously, but you should've heard some of them boarders carrying on about how they'd seen Kid Cole in a gunfight or regretting that they weren't there to witness it. I didn't know I'd run into a living legend."

He shrugged. "I carry the title of fastest draw in the west because I was in a gunfight with the previous owner and came out on top. Now I'm plagued with people trying to win the title from me, a title I'd be happy to pass on if it didn't mean my death," he said with a humorless smile.

She gave him a kindly look. "Maybe I was a little quick to judge. It must be a hard way to live, but nothing in here's going to make any of that easier."

He didn't like that she'd seen through his reason for being in here. It unsettled him. "You still ain't answered my question. What are you doing in here?"

"I'm going to share the Lord Jesus. I got to start somewhere and I know of no better place to find the lost than in a saloon."

"That's an arrogant attitude to assume everyone in here's lost."

"You're putting words in my mouth," she said, looking a little annoyed. "I'm just saying there's those here who are without hope, and since happiness comes from hoping in the Lord, it stands to reason people need to hear it."

"You can't witness to the people in here," he said, still wondering at her sanity.

"Why can't I?"

"Well, for one thing, a lot of them have been drinking and that doesn't generally make for a receptive mood. And for another, not too many in here are looking to be found."

"Maybe not, but I aim to let them know what they're missing," she said, refusing to be dissuaded. She sidled past him and went over to the closest table. At the table was a man was in his mid 30s. He looked tired and dusty and like he wanted to be left alone as he nursed his drink.

"I'm Ruth," she said, offering a hand for him to shake as she sat down.

The man seemed dazed that a stranger was joining his table, but he reached out and shook it. "I'm Lucius Slicker."

Kid, not daring to leave this woman to her devices, sat down with her. Lucius recognized him right away. "I don't know what this is about, but I don't want no trouble. I'm just a simple prospector. I ain't bothered nobody, and I ain't found a drop of gold or even silver for that matter."

"We ain't after nothing like that," Ruth assured him. "I just couldn't hope notice you look a mite lonely and I wondered if you knew Jesus."

He looked at Kid Cole. "Is she serious?"

"As sure as I'm sitting here," he said, sounding a tad exasperated but resigned.

"And you're here to make sure I know Jesus too?" he asked, trying to rationalize the notion of Kid Cole's outlaw image with one of his evangelizing.

"No, I'm just trying to keep this senseless woman from getting herself killed by asking the wrong person that question."

Lucius smiled at that.

"I didn't ask you to shadow me," she pointed out.

"Which only proves my point," Kid argued.

She frowned while Lucius chuckled.

"Anyhow," she said, putting a pleasant smile on again for Lucius. "Do you know Him?"

"About as much as anyone else," he said with a shrug, which showed her he didn't. "I must look lonely because I'm missing someone back east."

"I know the feeling." She missed her family something fierce. "I find though that if I talk with God it helps my loneliness, and it helps to know the Lord can see them and to think that we're praying to Him together. He bonds us together even when the miles separate us."

He looked a little teary eyed. "I got me a woman back in Philadelphia, a real religious woman just like you. She's the one I'm missing. She's waiting on me while I work to give her a life of ease and comfort like she deserves."

"Maybe you ought to go to her now. I don't know her, but I bet all she wants is you. Happiness don't lay in riches, but in God and each other."

He nodded. "She's told me that often enough in her letters. I think I will go back. Maybe it is long past time we started a family. Thank you, Miss Ruth," he said. He finished his drink and hurried out of the saloon.

"Didn't exactly win a soul for the kingdom there, did you?" Kid asked with a look of I-told-you-so.

"Well, it wasn't exactly a conversion, no, but he's taking a step in the right direction," she said. "A family will likely help him see sense and maybe help him find God."

"I don't know. I've seen gold get into a man's bloodstream. They spend their whole life trying to obtain it. It becomes as much of a disease as gambling can be. And it's too easy to think a woman and kids can change a man. A man's got to want to change and to want God for himself."

"I ain't denying it, but it's bound to be easier to find God in a…less busy atmosphere," she said, looking at some of the scantily clad women with repulsion and sadness.

At that moment, a man was thrown into the table next to them, falling like a sack of potatoes.

"He cheated," the man who had done the throwing said to Ruth with an apologetic smile, as if the cheating justified it.

Clearly the fallen man had friends because another fellow took a swing at said man and it wasn't long for the whole saloon seemed to join in, not that it took much to convince liquored up men to fight. Chairs, fists, and bottles were flying along with words that even made Kid Cole's ears turn a little red. It became a regular war zone.

Kid sheltered her with his body as he steered her through the swinging doors. "Well, I hope it's taught you that a saloon ain't no place for a lady," he said, after depositing her on the sidewalk.

"Not at all. It's taught me there's more work to be done than I thought. Imagine behaving that way over a game of cards. And women in there selling themselves. I knew it, but it's a whole other thing to see it. Somebody's got to do something about all that."

"And I suppose that somebody's you? I've never met a woman like you in all my life," he said with a shake of his head. He'd heard women rail against the problems of a saloon before, but she was the first one he ever saw who actually planned to do something about it.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a grin before heading in the direction of the boardinghouse.

He had a feeling that woman was going to be a burr in his saddle all the while he was in Santa Fe.


	5. Chapter 5

Ruth came into the kitchen the following morning, and Rosa was already hard at work making breakfast. She was a small, thin woman in her 40s, who reminded the homesick Ruth of her mother, and Rosa did indeed relish the role of "mother" to her younger boarders, having had no children of her own.

"Did you sleep good?" Rosa asked when she caught sight of Ruth.

"As well as can be expected with all the gunshots and the carousing that takes place after dark here. Is that a nightly happening?"

She nodded. "Saturday nights seem to be the worse but yes."

Rosa was frying bacon. Ruth went over to the bowl of eggs and started cracking them, the action somehow helping with the frustrated knots she had developed when she'd seen Kid Cole at the saloon.

"You don't have to help me, querida," Rosa said. "You pay for your board. It's my job to cook for you."

"I want to. I like to cook and I like to keep busy."

"If it makes you happy." Rosa said with a shrug and began turning the bacon over. "Where'd you go last night?"

"To the saloon," Ruth answered unabashedly.

"Are you loco?" Rosa asked, putting her hands on her hips with the spatula still in hand, forgetting about flipping over the rest of the bacon. "You went inside of the saloon alone?"

"At first, but Kid Cole was there. He appointed himself my guardian. Heaven only knows why."

That seemed to ease Rosa's temper. "Ah, Kid Cole. He's cute, no?" she asked, her dark brown eyes twinkling,

"No," Ruth answered perhaps too quickly to be believable.

A grin as wide as the Mississippi developed on Rosa's face. "You like him."

"I don't. In the first place, I'm not even looking for a man, and in the second place, if I was he wouldn't be my first pick. Would you believe he was sitting in there with a girl on his lap?"

"Yes, most men need to be how you say hogtie?"

"That sounds about right," Ruth mumbled, whipping the eggs with a spoon and then pouring them into the buttered pan Rosa had waiting.

"Well, you're just the woman to hogtie him," Rosa said as if she were stating a fundamental truth.

"Now who's loco?" Ruth retorted, having a fair idea of what the Spanish word meant from the context of Rosa's earlier use.

"Tell me, what did he do when he saw you seeing him with the woman in his lap?"

She decided not to even dignify the question with an answer, feeling that it would only fuel Rosa's crazy notions.

"That's what I thought," Rosa said with great satisfaction. "Don't let him fool you. The boy has a heart of gold underneath his tough man act. If he finds the right woman, he'll be as good a family man as they come."

"That may be true, Miss Rosa, but that woman won't be me." Seeking to distract her and really desiring to know, she asked, "Is it okay if I go to church with you this morning?"

"You are not Catholic."

"Are there any churches around here that ain't Catholic?"

"No. I see what you mean." Rosa chuckled as she saw that some of her bacon slices had burned as she had become distracted by their conversation. "I hope some of my boarders like their bacon extra crispy."

sss

"You like our simple church?" Rosa asked as they seated themselves on a pew.

San Miguel Mission may have been a standard church design out here, but she was fascinated by the thick adobe walls with high windows and the stone buttresses, and the inside fascinated her even more. It was heavily decorated with paintings that hung on the whitewashed walls, some on animal skins, and there were statues and a crucifix. Rosa hadn't seen a simple church until she'd seen the little, Methodist church she had attended all her life, completely unadorned except for one little cross. "I like it a lot. It's very pretty. Why shouldn't God's house be attractive to the eye? He deserves our best in all things."

She chuckled. "You think this is the best? If only you could see the cathedrals in Spain, breathtaking. This is nothing."

Ruth now focused her attention on the people. The congregation was poor; their Sunday clothes were threadbare or heavily patched in some cases, making her look wealthy though she wore a homespun dress. She was the only white, male or female.

The smell of incense was heavy in the air as the priest and altar boys walked down the center of the pews, all wearing robes. When he got in front of them, he greeted the congregation with "In nòmine Patris, et Fìlii, et Spìritus Sancti."

The congregation said, "Amen." The only word Ruth recognized.

It continued to be about the only word she could make out. The Latin sounded lovely though. It gave it the air of being ancient and a feeling of connection to the Christians who had gone before, but she thought it a shame that the people couldn't hear the words of God in their own language, but then again it was only the 2nd foreign tongue she had heard in her life, so it was quite possible that there was some Spanish in there and it just sounded the same to her.

The service was full of rituals. Sometimes they had to sit down, sometimes they had to stand up, and sometimes they had to kneel, sometimes they had to recite things, sometimes the priest recited things. She followed Rosa's lead the best she could.

They touched their forehead, chest, and both shoulders at times and she must have looked confused because Rosa explained in a whisper, "For the cross." Ruth liked the gesture after hearing that. It was a physical way to remind them of what the Lord had done for them.

There was even more ceremony surrounding the communion. A bell was rung and then the priest prayed. It rung a second time as the wafer was lifted by the priest. A man lifted up a chalice as the bell rung a third time.

The priest eventually brought the wine and unleavened bread down and the congregation began lining up to receive it.

"The Eucaristía is not meant for those who are not of the Catholic faith, " Rosa explained quietly with a look of apology.

"I understand," she assured her with a smile. It went against her own faith as well if the things she'd heard about the Catholics were true, and the chalice held wine instead of juice and they believed they were receiving the body and blood of Christ in a literal sense instead of serving only as a reminder as she believed.

The mass didn't last long after the communion. She'd brought her Bible with her, but it remained unused. As they exited, the priest stood at the door, greeting them with nods of his heads rather than handshakes.

"Gracias, Padre. Este es mi amiga, Senorita Ruth McKenzie. Ella es uno de mis alumnos," Rosa said.

"Hola, hija," he said with a smile. He obviously didn't speak English, but he looked happy to see her.

"Hola," she returned. If she stayed around here long, she'd be picking up all kinds of Spanish, she thought with a smile.

The sky still reflected morning. The mass wasn't near as long as she was used to church services being.

"How did you like the mass?" Rosa asked.

"It's not what I'm used to, but it's plain to see that it's a way for some believers to connect to God. I don't know why some Christians are so bent on being each other's enemies when we're sisters and brothers in Christ. The only doctrine that truly matters is the doctrine of Christ."

Rosa shuddered. She'd had friends die, strangulated or burned at the stake because they refused to renounce their heresy against the Church. She believed in the Holy Roman Catholic Church, but she didn't believe in the hatred of people, and she knew Christ didn't either. Loving your enemies was a commandment not a suggestion. Fortunately, the days of the Inquisition seemed to be over in this part of the world though the old hatred still burned in some people and probably always would. "I agree."

"Well, we don't have to accept the hatred, Sister Rosa."

"No, we don't," she said, returning her smile, "Sister Ruth."


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth spent Sunday afternoon studying the Word, praying, and singing hymns that she knew. When she was done, she stretched having sat too long in one position and then looked out the window of her room. It would be sunset in an hour or two and with the heat of the day mostly gone, she thought it'd be a fine time for a walk.

"You're not going to the saloon again, are you?" Rosa asked with her hands on her hips.

"Not today anyway," Ruth answered back lightly.

"You be careful. Don't you go down any street where there is not a lot of people."

"Yes, Mama Rosa," she said laughingly.

"I am not joking. Santa Fe can be a dangerous place. All kinds of strangers coming and leaving as of late. All kinds of things could happen to you."

"I know. I'll be careful," she said more soberly to show her she understood and would listen.

During her walk, she became lost in thought as she made a mental list of what all she needed to do while in Santa Fe. She still wanted to go to the general store to see if the storekeeper could recommend some work, so she could buy some of the supplies she would need. She wasn't likely to get donations from the local churches as she would be spreading heresy in their eyes, and if the folks at San Miguel Mission were any indication, it didn't look like they had the money to spare if they were willing to donate.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't notice she'd walked into a spider's path, but when she did notice it, she saw that it was the biggest, hairiest spider she had ever seen in her life and she was mere inches away from it. She had accidentally managed to back it up against a rock and its front legs raised as if it was ready to go into some kind of attack mode. She let out a shriek and stepped back as quickly as she dared, afraid if she moved too fast, it would chase her.

Kid Cole came running at her scream with his gun drawn ready for a fight, having been taking his own walk nearby. He expected to find a lady being attacked.

Relief crossed her face when she saw him as he was the only other person out on this particular street though some of the people in the houses might have been watching from inside. She went running behind him for cover. She grabbed onto his left arm needing to be reassured that she had a shield of sorts, and she shouted, "Shoot it! Shoot it! Shoot it!"

"The thing's harmless, Ruth," he said, putting his gun back into his holster. "It's not poisonous. It was most likely out hunting for a lady friend until you frightened it out of its wits."

As if sensing the danger was past with Kid Cole giving it the okay, the tarantula scurried away at a disconcerting speed.

"I frightened it? That thing's about the size of my hand or a small plate. That ain't natural."

"Now, Ruth, the tarantula's one of God's creatures too," he chastised. His mouth normally held in a straight, serious line was twitching at the corners.

"Spiders are not supposed to be that big," she said, enunciating every word slowly as if he were a child or a halfwit.

"Everything's bigger out here," he said teasingly. "And besides, you ain't seen nothing till you've seen a scorpion."

She gave a very visible shudder and then her hands moved as if she were brushing off invisible spiders. "I don't think I want to know what they are, at least not right this moment."

It only served to further amuse Kid. "I was beginning to wonder if you had the sense to be afraid of anything. It's good to see you've got some womanly fears."

"Anybody in their right mind would be scared of a spider that big."

"You still want to go gallivanting around the west by yourself?" he asked.

That seemed to bring back her spirit. She straightened up, adding a couple of inches to her height. "I ain't jumping for joy to know there's critters like that crawling around out here, but it ain't going to deter me from following the Lord's will for me."

He placed a hand on her arm.

"Why're you clutching on me?" she asked.

"You were clutching on my arm just a little bit ago," he argued. "But I'm going to walk you back to the boardinghouse. Just in case any tarantulas try to jump out and attack you."

"I'm glad I could make your day," Ruth grumbled because of all his joking, but she didn't force him to let go of her arm.

"Oh, you did," he said with a grin. Then he let it drop, knowing when to quit. He changed the subject altogether, "Rumor is you're Catholic."

"What if I am?" she challenged.

"I don't care one way or the other. You could be a heathen for all I care. Just curious is all."

"I'm not. I just attended a Catholic church this morning with Rosa. What is somebody spying on me or something?"

"You're a popular subject around here. The men especially are watching every move you make, and you're stirring up talk more and more with your strange actions."

"What do you mean?"

"Going into a saloon, attending a Catholic church with a bunch of Mexicans, and the biggest reason of all you're attracting so much attention is that you're a single, white woman. Those ain't exactly plentiful around here."

They'd reached the boardinghouse, and Rosa came out onto the porch with a smile that Ruth didn't altogether like. She knew a matchmaker's smile when she saw one.

"Kid, how good to see you again," Rosa crooned.

Ruth pulled away from Kid before Rosa got the wrong impression, although it was probably already too late on that score.

"Good to see you, Miss Rosa," he said, tipping his hat to her.

"I just made some pastries. Come into the kitchen and have one," Rosa ordered.

"No thank you, ma'am. I was just on my way."

"You are a growing boy with hardly any meat on your bones. You need a pastry," Rosa insisted.

He smiled but reiterated, "No, thank you."

With another tip of his hat, Kid headed toward the saloon while Ruth went up the steps of the boarding house.

Rosa still wore a smile. "Such a polite boy."

"Polite, my foot," Ruth muttered, thinking back to all his teasing over the spider.


	7. Chapter 7

The store like most general stores was a mish mash of items. There were bolts of fabric, barrels with flour and beans, candy jars, bottles of elixir and other patent medicine that her grandmother had sworn up and down were useless most of time, and various other essential supplies residents or someone traveling further west or back up the Santa Fe trail might need. The floors were a muddy mess and some of the items that weren't fast movers and had sat on the shelf for awhile were dusty.

The storekeeper was a small man with spectacles and a definite look of shrewdness about him. He'd know the residents well enough to know if anybody was hunting for workers.

She donned a smile. "My name's Ruth McKenzie. I'm looking for work. Temporary work, mind you. I ultimately want to be about the Lord's work, but I need a little money to get started."

"I'll hire you," he said. He obviously hadn't been in Santa Fe long. He was white and had a definite Northern accent. "Name's Mr. Black." A fact that she had already worked out from the name Black's General Store.

She sent up a prayer of thanks for her immediate success then asked, "What'll you pay me?"

"20 dollars for a month's worth of work."

"How about 30?" She knew it was about the wage a schoolteacher garnered in a month. She did the math. It wasn't enough for a horse alone, but if she combined it with what she had left, she would probably be able to swing it, along with a saddle bag with some basic supplies by the end of the month. It was a definite start.

"I suppose I can handle that. Well, no use putting it off; you might as well start earning your wage." He pointed to a room in the back. "There are some hooks and nails in the back there. You can hang up your cloak and hat, and I have an extra apron somewhere back there if you want to protect your clothes."

She did as he said. The apron was almost as grimy as the floors, but she put it on because she was sure cleaning was involved. She went to find out her first task.

"Can you read?" he asked with an air of doubt as if he suspected by her accent that she couldn't.

"Yeah."

"Good. You can sort the mail," he said, handing her a stack of letters and small packages.

"I ain't too bad with ciphering either if you want me to do anything with your books."

"No, I want you out here where the customers can see you."

She cocked her head at that comment, but when he didn't elaborate, she brushed it off as she got down to work. It was harder work than she expected, trying to decipher some of the handwriting. Some people's penmanship was lacking, and it was a wonder that the letters and/or packages had made it this far.

The people passing in and out of the store were frequent and she eventually stopped looking to see who it was, but she caught Kid Cole out of the corner of her eye. When she turned her head for a better look, he appeared to be browsing the soap and toiletries. Mr. Black swung his head in his direction to ask her to take care of it. She went over to where Kid seemed to be studying a bar of lavender soap extra hard.

"You looking for something to make you smell pretty?" she asked with a grin.

His face colored until he said, "Maybe I'm looking for a gift for a friend."

"Maybe you are. Anything I can help you with? I work here now you know."

"So I noticed. The store's not that big; I think I can handle it." His eyes went to a different part of the shelf away from the lavender soap.

Ruth couldn't resist after all the teasing she had endured from him. "Fine, but if you want to sample some of that lemon verbena let me know."

He colored again, and she went back to the letters and packages. She glanced over a couple minutes later and saw that he had repositioned himself in front of the ammunition and guns. She hid a smile and finished sorting the letters and packages. When she turned around she found herself face-to-face with a large, unkempt man.

"Will you marry me?" he asked straight away not even allowing her to catch her breath.

Ruth coughed both in an attempt to hide her surprise and because it was easy to smell that this man wasn't into weekly baths. "Marry you? I don't even know you."

"It don't bother me none, gal. If your cooking's passable and you're capable of taking care of a passel of youngens, that's all I care about."

She attempted to form words, but she was still a little shocked. He took her silence for her thinking about the offer and began to rattle off his virtues. "I don't drink. I'm a decent fur trapper and not one to gamble my earnings away. You'll have a comfortable life."

She wished she could get him to sample some lemon verbena as she fought to keep her hand from covering her nose, but she had no desire to offend him further than she had to. "It's very nice of you to offer, but I ain't looking to settle down."

The friendly look quickly disappeared. "It gets cold and life ain't easy out here. Come winter you're going to wish you had shacked up with somebody even a smelly, old fur trapper like me."

He didn't look heartbroken. He just had his pride stung a bit. He paid for some tobacco and food supplies and went on his way. She gave a sigh of relief when he was gone.

As morning went on, it became clear that there were other men who wanted to approach her, but hung back because of the way Kid Cole was looking at them as if he would love nothing more than to put a bullet through them if they even looked at her too hard. They would eventually end up leaving the store when his eyes followed them around watching their every move.

Mr. Black grew more and more irritated with him until he approached Kid Cole and though he only came up halfway up his chest, he said boldly, "Either buy something or get out of my store. You're scaring away my customers."

"They ain't customers. They're your new worker's suitors," he said with a humph.

"That doesn't mean they won't buy something, especially if Miss McKenzie ever gets the chance to wait on them."

Kid Cole's eyes hardened. "She ain't a window display. You ain't going to use her to lure in men."

"Can I help it if they're attracted to my new employee? Nothing unsavory is happening here. So what if she's got to fend off a few proposals? Besides, I don't hear Miss McKenzie complaining."

"I believe I fancy a game of checkers," he said, sitting down at the table of checkers Mr. Black had sat up for customers. He knew the man didn't have the nerve to physically throw him out despite his bluster.

Mr. Black muttered and went back behind the counter. It was now clear to Ruth why she had been hired, but she wasn't terribly upset by it. It paid well enough, and she was sure men around here would eventually figure out she wasn't looking for marriage.

Kid Cole stayed at the store until closing. "I'm going to walk you to the boardinghouse." It wasn't a request but a statement.

"I believe I know my way there. You keep walking me to the boardinghouse, folks are going to get the wrong idea."

"You might want to give them that wrong idea. You know why you didn't have more than one proposal today? Because I was looking out for you. I won't have to hang around all day tomorrow because I've sent the message to back off, but I'm still going to be walking you to and from the boardinghouse. There are men out there who won't care whether you say yes or no and will be watching to catch you out alone."

She flushed. It was true she didn't want any repeats of her earlier proposal. Maybe he had a point as much as she hated to admit it. "Well, I reckon it can't hurt nothing," she assented.


	8. Chapter 8

True to his word, Kid was waiting for her at the boardinghouse every morning and was there at the store's closing. He didn't have much to say, which unnerved Ruth, and so she generally spent the entire walk rattling on about her day at the store.

"I'm going to the livery to see the horses for sell," she told him one day. "I want to pick me out one even though I ain't quite ready to buy yet. You can wait for me if you want, but I really think I'll be fine. A week's gone by and nothing out of the ordinary's happened. I think the excitement of my coming has died down." She had received a couple more proposals during her working hours, but the men had been perfectly harmless just disappointed. She saw no reason to add to the paranoia Kid Cole seemed to have about her safety.

"From the talk I hear in the saloon, it hasn't died down yet. I don't mind going with you."

She wanted to ask him what they said about her in the saloon, but then figured maybe she didn't want to hear.

The overpowering scent of the livery took her back home with the smell of manure and hay heavy in the air as the liveryman came up to them.

"I'd like to buy a horse," she told him.

The liveryman shrugged to show he didn't understand a word she was saying.

"Well, I reckon I can try to use some hand gestures, and if that don't work, I guess I can come back with Rosa," Ruth said to Kid.

"I've had to learn a few survival phrases since I've been out here. I might be able to help."

Kid stumbled over the Spanish words and didn't seem to be able to roll his Rs like they did, but the blacksmith seemed to get the gist of his words.

"He wants to know what horse you like. Just the four on this side are for sell. The others belong to somebody or are for renting only."

She went down the rows of stalls. There was an impressively large black horse that by the way he snorted and shook his head definitely had plenty of spirit. He would provide somebody a great challenge but not her. The horse in the next stall was a bay and very friendly by the way he reached his head out likely in search of a treat, but he looked as if he was considering nibbling her, treat or no treat. "Just a little too friendly," she said mostly to herself. The horse in the next stall seemed not to even notice her. It just stood there placidly as it gnawed on its hay.

"I like this one," she said, stopping in front of it without even looking at the horse in the next stall.

"This old, worn out thing? She looks ready to be set out to pasture," Kid Cole said.

"The horse has a kind look about it," she argued.

"Kind look," he repeated with a snort. "Well, you probably could get a good bargain on it."

She could tell it wasn't the finest specimen of horse, but if it fit her budget, it suited her fine, and she wanted a gentle ride.

Kid and the liveryman finagled on a price until Kid said, "He'll give it to you for only 70 dollars. I believe he said you could even take her out for a ride to see how you like her. We'll know for sure if he didn't say that if he comes after us with a gun," he grinned to show he was only teasing about the last part. He opened the stall and led the horse over to the saddles.

"You going to ride sidesaddle?" he asked, so he'd know which saddle to grab.

Ruth looked more than a little offended. "Are you accusing me of being a loose woman?"

"Only an idiot would accuse you of that. I'm just saying if you ain't never been off the farm, it's possible you've only ever rode astride, so do you know how to ride sidesaddle or not?"

She'd never told him she grew up on a farm, but most people did, and maybe she had the look of a farm girl what with her hands though she noticed she no longer carried dirt under her nails. "I've been in towns plenty," she contradicted. She had only ever been to Estelsville, the town nearest her family's farm, before coming out west, but some folks had never even seen a real town so that was something. "Sidesaddle's fine."

She hadn't been on a saddle period or a horse for that matter. Her family had only owned mules and her dad had refused to let her sisters and brothers ride them. He said they were only for plowing and to pull the family into town when need be, but she'd seen horses being ridden plenty of times, and it didn't look that hard to her. It was just a matter of sitting on the saddle. Sidesaddle ought to be even easier than a regular saddle. It looked like the horse did all the work.

He got the saddle on then held out his hands to help her up. She didn't like having to touch a man that wasn't ailing or her kin, especially this one. She got as jumpy as a grasshopper when he put his hands on her, but she saw no other way around it. She had to get up on the horse and though the mare was a small one as far as horses went at about 14 hands high, it would still be difficult to get up on it alone, so she let him help her up.

She put her feet in the stirrup, and she was pretty proud of herself for about 10 seconds. The horse flicked its tail at a bee that then stung the horse sending it into a galloping speed, and she somehow found herself on the side of the horse instead of on its back.

She hung onto its neck for dear life as she recited pieces of a psalm in her head, but it wasn't giving her the peace of mind it normally did as wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on this way.

"Oh, Lord, don't let me kill myself," she prayed out loud when she wasn't screaming.

She managed to get her left leg thrown up part of the way onto the saddle. She was far from being in a lady like position with her skirt flapping out about her legs; she'd probably have been in better shape in that respect if she'd gone with a saddle that put her astride. She was glad the horse had chosen to gallop away from the town and out into the countryside, such as it was in these parts. Less witnesses that way.

The liveryman and Kid Cole were following bareback on horses they'd grabbed, and they were both yelling out instructions, Kid in English and the liveryman in Spanish, drowning each other out, not that it would have mattered if she could have heard the liveryman.

She still tried to right herself in between the praying and the screaming though without much success. It felt like it went on that way forever until they came upon a creek. She was afraid the horse was going to jump it, but it suddenly began to slow its gallop, coming to a full stop in front of the creek where it then bent down to take a drink from the muddy water.

Ruth breathed a sigh of relief but was afraid to move an inch for fear that the horse would decide to take off again.

Kid Cole had caught up with her and gotten off his own horse. His hands enclosed themselves around her waist and she had no choice but to put her hands on his shoulders as he helped her down. Her knees buckled as if they didn't know what to do with solid ground anymore, but he held onto her until she got her bearing.

She almost felt like reaching down and kissing the soil. She had never been more thankful for it. "Bless You, Merciful Jesus," she said. After assuring herself that all her body members were in working order and discovering a few strands of hair that had pulled themselves loose, she pulled away from Kid.

"You ain't never been on a horse in your life, have you?" he asked with a narrowed gaze.

"Was it that obvious?" she kidded.

Kid Cole wasn't amused. "You didn't think that little fact was important? You could've broken your fool neck."

"I figured that out about halfway through the ride. Oh, well. Got to look on the bright side, I guess. With all that blue sky and sunshine between me and the horse, I won't be too awful sore in the morning." A joke because she could already feel the bruises coming on.

He still wasn't amused. "You can't go riding between towns without even knowing how to sit on a horse. What possessed you to think you could make it out here?"

"The Holy Ghost," she answered seriously this time.

He sighed. "I guess somebody ought to teach you how to ride this thing cause heaven knows you're going to be right back up on it if they don't."

"You offering?"

"I suppose I am. Here's lesson number one. 'Whoa' stops the horse," he said dryly.

She felt foolish as soon as he said it. She had heard the word before, even used it on the mules at home, but somehow it hadn't come to her when she was up on the horse. "You do have to admit that horse still has some get up and go left in it."

He gave a small smile. "You and her might could outride an Indian or two at that. You can definitely outrun a Mexican liveryman," he said as the liveryman appeared, looking relived to see Ruth was still alive.


	9. Chapter 9

The liveryman was delighted someone was taking the horse off his hands, and with a small down payment, she was able to use the horse as she pleased. It was hers in all but name. The horse's name was Caramelo, but Ruth had found that too much of a mouthful and had shortened it down to Carmel. She wanted to practice every evening after she got off work, and Kid was happy to oblige. It wasn't but a few days before she was competent on a horse.

"How about a race?" she asked.

"I don't think you're quite ready for a race, especially on that plug. Unless another bee comes along," he added with a smile.

"Well, a fast trot then," she amended and sure enough she rode ahead with Carmel in a trot.

He smiled to himself. It took moxie to almost kill yourself on a horse and then get right back up on it like she had. She had taken to riding like a duck to water. He wouldn't have taken her for a horsewoman, but she seemed to have physical finesse and the ability to pick up on the horse's signals and to soothe and communicate in response. Carmel was obviously impressed with her as she was devoted to her new mistress and did her best for her.

He imagined Ruth astride on the horse instead of just sidesaddle, her hair an unfurled mass streaming in the breeze. He swallowed thickly at the image. It was wrong of him to picture her like that, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Images like that seemed to pop into his mind unbidden when it came to her.

There were moments he felt as drawn to her as a moth was to a flame, but unlike the moth, he knew if he flew too close, he'd get burned. It wasn't safe to admire her too closely.

It wasn't that he hadn't courted women who were considered respected citizens of the community before, but they generally had rings that belonged to other people, a fairly safe way to make sure his heart didn't get too entangled. He had pursued a couple of unmarried women who didn't work in a saloon, but it had always been purely physical between them. He hadn't liked them as people.

He knew the kind of life he led left no room in it for a wife and children. He could barely stand it himself. And barring that, they were just too different. They'd fight like cats and dogs, not that he didn't think some of that fighting would be a lot of fun because he could tell it would be easy to push her buttons, but it was best for the both of them to keep their relationship, if indeed they had one, strictly plutonic.

She suddenly looked back at him with a beguiling grin, a grin daring him to keep up with her. Her intent wasn't to charm him. She had no idea she was driving him crazy with every smile she smiled, every word she spoke, every gesture she gestured, which served to make him even crazier. Most of the women in his experience knew the power they wielded as women, but she didn't or at least she had no interest in wielding it.

When he caught up with her, she said, "I think old Carmel could use a break, and you got better things to do than chase me around on a horse until dark."

If he did, he really couldn't think of any. He was enjoying his time with her. She was sweet and innocent. Light and good humor radiated from her. She had a funny way of lifting his usual bad mood like the lady herself was a tonic for his soul. If any man even thought of robbing her of these qualities, he'd have no trouble putting a bullet through said man.

He stared at her like a lovesick schoolboy all the way back to the livery, and he was glad she never glanced over to catch him watching her so intently. God had a sense of humor if He was making him fall for this puritanical, iron-willed slip of a girl. That thought alarmed him. How had he gone from simple attraction to thinking about love? He shook the idea away as quickly as it had come. He hadn't fallen, he told himself, he was just getting a little carried away by a pretty face.

He hopped down from his horse and went over to help her down, glad to have something to focus on besides the battle going on in his mind.

"I might as well get used to getting on and off it myself. You ain't going to be here to help me on and off forever," she told him.

"No, but if there's a man in the vicinity, they'll help you off the horse, so you might as well get used to it."

She put her hands on his shoulders and he put his hands on her waist as he brought her to the ground. "You going to go riding tomorrow?" he asked in an effort not to concentrate on how much he liked the feel of her waist and on the way heat seemed to gather at so innocent a place as his shoulders when her hands rested there.

"Tomorrow's Sunday," she reminded him.

"So it is." He seemed to have lost track of the days. He had already stayed in Santa Fe much longer than he intended. It wasn't good to hang his hat in any one place for too long. He'd made too many enemies for that, but he knew the reason he was still here, and it was standing right in front of him.

"You want to come to church with me?" It was a friendly question. She wasn't pressuring him about it like he would have expected from someone who had made it their life's calling to save people's souls. She led Carmel back to her stall and removed the saddle off of her.

"No, I don't think so." She'd asked the same thing last week and had received the same response.

"You ain't going to get struck down by lightening if you go, you know," she told him with a playful grin as she began brushing her horse down.

"I don't know about that. I don't think God's too fond of hypocrites from what I remember from Sunday School, and if I walked through the door of a church, that's exactly what'd I be."

She frowned. She obviously wanted an explanation but seemed to know he wasn't ready to say more, and she let the subject drop.

He took care of his own horse while she finished up and returned him to the stall that he was renting.

She was just shutting Carmel's stall door back when he joined her again. She pulled an apple out of her pocket. The apple in her hand and the impish look on her face helped Kid understand why Adam had eaten the fruit with Eve even though he'd been warned of the cost. She didn't have the apple for long though as Carmel reached over and snatched it up.

"Rosa knows I took it," she explained, wiping Carmel's slobber on her skirt, "but she'd throw a fit if she knew I was giving a perfectly good apple to a horse."

He chuckled and listened as Ruth told him all about Rosa's wonderful apple pies on their walk back to the boardinghouse. He wondered with amusement if she ever stopped to take a breath. He'd never met a man, woman, or child who could beat Ruth in that respect. He enjoyed listening to her prattle though.

Instead of her usual goodbye in front of the house, she told him, "Come upstairs with me."

She didn't wait for a response. She just assumed he was going to follow her, and he did. He couldn't help his curiosity. She'd never even invited him to the front door of the boardinghouse before and now she was inviting him to her room.

She stopped in front of the door to her room and turned around with an outstretched hand. "You ripped your sleeve. Give it to me, so I can fix it before it gets any worse."

No asking. She just commanded. He couldn't help but bristle. He wasn't used to people ordering him about; they didn't dare. He started at her a tad incredulously.

"Well?" she asked with a touch of impatience.

He jerked his shirt off as she whipped her head to the side, so that she wouldn't see anything improper. He then threw his shirt at her, which she neatly caught.

"I'll be as quick as I can," she promised with her head still turned.

"You're going to leave me out here like this?"

"I can't invite a shirtless man into my bedroom. It wouldn't be right, but it won't take me long." Then she shut the door, leaving him standing out in the hallway with his bare chest in plain view of any person who happened to walk by. If any of the other boarders came by right now, he'd be the laughingstock of Santa Fe, behind his back of course.

He paced outside the door furiously. The woman seemed not to be able to tolerate appearance flaws any more than she could tolerate moral flaws. She wanted as much control and order in the physical world as she could get as evidenced by her unchanging, tight hairstyle. He bet a person couldn't find a single speck of dust were he to search her room, not that he'd get the chance. The uptight woman needed someone to unwind her a little bit. He wished that person luck because it would be a job and a half.

She had been telling the truth. It only took her about 10 minutes. He examined her handiwork before he put the shirt back on. The stitches were barely visible as perfect and precise as stitches from a human being could be. He'd expected no less and he had no idea why the flawless stitching steamed him, but it did. He stormed away with his newly repaired shirt without as much as a grunt.

About halfway to his hotel he felt a little guilty. She hadn't meant anything by it. Maybe she had even meant it as a thank you for the riding lessons. He felt the nagging need to go back and apologize.

Rosa let him in. "She's in the parlor," she told him with a smile, which soured him further that she knew the purpose of his being there, but he mumbled a thank you as he brushed past her.

He found the parlor. Ruth was alone in the room, studying a piece of paper and biting her lip in concentration. He forgot about apologizing. "What's that?" he asked.

She looked up only for a second. "Mr. Black let me borrow a map. I'm planning out my route. Won't be much longer now."

"You're still going through with this?" He didn't know why the woman couldn't see she wouldn't last out there. Healthy, full-grown men didn't make it out there.

"I'm not buying a horse cause I like being sore and mucking out a stall," was her comeback.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Why don't you go home, Ruth? I'm sure it'd be a load off your parents' mind. I'll see that you have the funds to do it if money's a problem."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do when I get there?"

"I bet you had a boy there that was kind of sweet on you." The blush proved his assumption had been right. "Do what normal women do. Get married, raise some children, grow old and gray. That's the kind of life you really want."

The color this time came not from embarrassment but temper. "You don't know what kind of life I want."

"I can predict what kind of life you'll have if you continue with this wild notion," he retorted.

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," she said, standing up and pointing to the door.

"Fine, get yourself killed for all I care!" He slammed the parlor door shut behind him. Then he realized he still hadn't thanked her for her repair work. He opened the door back up and her eyes were narrowed and cheeks flushed in anticipation of more angry words. He didn't know how she managed to still be attractive with a scowl on her face, but she did. "Thanks for the shirt!"


	10. Chapter 10

After the church service with Rosa and her own private worship time, Ruth could think of no better way to spend her Sunday than at the saloon sowing seeds that she hoped would take root. She was making plans to hold a service in Santa Fe because there was no better place to start with mission work than right where you were.

Her eyes surveyed the saloon crowd when she went in. Kid wasn't there. She felt a measure relief and unexpected disappointment at the knowledge of this fact. She'd become rather used to being shadowed by him. Her eyes lighted on a painting of a nude woman that hung on the wall. She hadn't noticed it before, but she'd seen better days as she was riddled with bullets that made it a little less scandalous to look at. Nonetheless, her eyes quickly found a new focal point.

Her mother frequently told her that she lacked tact. Her father said it was born of an honest spirit. Whatever the reason, Ruth knew of no other way to bring people to the Lord but to charge through and say what needed to be said. Above the den of noise, she announced, "I'm holding a revival this Saturday evening to help Santa Fe remember the Lord and His power. If you got any kin that's feeling poorly, bring them and see what the Lord can do for those who trust in Him."

The way the silence fell, one would have thought she had announced she was about to blow the place sky high. Then laughter descended instead.

One man called out, "So you're one of them phony faith healers then."

There were a few murmurs of they wouldn't miss it, but it wasn't because they expected to see any healing take place. They expected it to be a funny display by a fraud.

Her temper rose. "If you don't believe, it's better you don't come. He can't heal you if you don't have the faith for it."

There were more disparaging marks thrown her way, and then 3 men encircled her. She backed up until she stumbled against a chair.

One grinned at her with his crooked teeth. "Not so uppity without your shield, are you, honey?"

"We'll see just how virtuous you are when we get done," another said, his tone implying improper things.

The other didn't say a word but the smirk on his face did the talking for him.

They pressed closer, leaving her no space for escape, but then one of the saloon girls broke through the circle and took her by the arm. "Boys, you've had your fun. I don't think any of you really want to make Kid angry."

Without waiting for a reply, she led Ruth up the stairs to her room. "You'll be safe in here."

"Not that I'm not grateful, but why are you helping me?" Ruth asked.

"You're Kid Cole's girl," she said simply.

"I most certainly am not. I ain't nobody's girl."

"Feisty. No wonder he loves you," she said with a melodious laugh.

"I don't know where you're getting your information from, but he doesn't love me."

"That's not what word around the saloon is. He's not been visiting the girls as much as he used to. What does that tell you?"

"I don't know, but I know we don't even get along when we're together. We generally end up fighting. Really," she insisted when she saw Carla's smile.

"I believe you, but you don't work long in this business before you can spot the difference between love and lust, and trust me the boy's got it for you bad. I don't think he even knows it yet, but he will." Carla moved toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, not sure she wanted to be abandoned after the incident downstairs.

"To see if I can go settle some of them boys down. Keep the door locked, and I'll sneak you out the back door when things quiet down."

"How are you going to do that?"

"You'd be surprised how a little leg can calm a man down or at least get his mind going in another direction. Maybe you should try it the next time you and Kid get into a fight. I guarantee you he'll forget why you and he were fighting if you lift your skirt up a bit."

She left Ruth feeling more than a little shocked, but thinking it over she was sure the woman had only been teasing, especially about Kid loving her. She studied the room. Unlike the gaudy saloon, the room was simple: a bed, a washstand, and a trunk. It could have been a room at the boardinghouse except that it wasn't.

Ruth jumped when there was a knock at the door, and she didn't know if she should answer the door or not. It could be Carla returning, but she hadn't been gone but for a minute or two.

The knock sounded again. "Miss Carla, I know you're in there. Open up!" She recognized the slurred voice immediately and went to the door.

"God have mercy, I'm seeing that blasted woman now. What do they put in that whiskey? I know I could taste some chewing tobacco, but it shouldn't bring on a hallucination like this."

She was offended. Was seeing her the nightmare that he was making it out to be? "You need His mercy with talk like that."

"You even sound like her," he said with a laugh. His arms suddenly enclosed her, the smell of alcohol assaulting her nose. She was so stunned that at first she didn't know how to react. Then his hands lowered and Ruth instinctively slapped him.

The sting must have proved that she wasn't a figment his mind had conjured up in place of Carla. He immediately let go of her. "It is you. What the devil are you doing in here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she said.

"I think you know what I'm doing in here. The question is what are you doing in here."

Her arms folded and her eyes were flashing. She did know what he was doing here, and it filled her anger, and she wasn't so sure that it was entirely righteous anger. "I'm sharing the gospel."

"To Carla?"

"To as many as will listen. I'm going to have my first meeting Saturday. You coming?"

"No, and quit trying to change the subject. Why are you up here in Carla's room?" he repeated again.

"It got a little rowdy down there," she admitted. "She's letting me stay here until it's safe for me to leave."

He swore under his breath. "Didn't I tell you the saloon ain't the place for a lady?"

"It ain't the place for nobody," she said stubbornly.

"Who was it that bothered you? I'll make sure it doesn't happen again." He reached for his gun, but it clattered to the floor as he tried pulling it out, having lost most of his fine motor control.

"More likely you'll end up shooting yourself," she muttered. "What are you doing to yourself, brother?"

"The name's Kid; I ain't your brother."

"You ain't my kid neither. Don't keep me from worrying about you."

"Well, you got plenty to do worrying about yourself." He intended to leave in a huff, but his stagger didn't quite do the trick.

She clicked her tongue chidingly and shook her head. "You can hardly even stand up."

"I wasn't planning on needing to do a lot of standing."

She ignored his crass remark that she knew was meant to make her leave in a huff instead. "You need to be in your own bed to sleep it off is what you need."

"Who's going to take me there? You?"

"If I have to," she said, opening the door to show she was ready.

He seemed to forget his anger and followed her out. They slipped out the back. Ruth gave a wave to Carla as they passed. No one else noticed them as Carla was providing the distraction she'd promised.

Although he hadn't exactly been stealthy through the building, the outside seemed to free him, and he began belting out a tune.

"Why, fair Maid in every feature,  
Are such signs of fear expressed?  
Can a wandering wretched Creature  
With such terror fill thy breast  
Do my brazened looks alarm thee vain  
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee  
Alarm not then poor CRAZY JANE"

She was sure they made quite a picture, bobbing and weaving across the street with him caterwauling that awful folk song, and she had the distinct feeling she was Crazy Jane.

The alcohol seemed to be catching up with him full force as he was leaning on her heavily by the time they reached the door of his hotel room. "I don't feel too good," he said with a moan.

"You wouldn't, would you?" she retorted with little sympathy. "There's a cure for it, you know: stop drinking." She held out her hand for the key, which he dug for in his pocket and handed over.

"You ever tried drinking, Ruth?" he asked, seemingly forgetting his pain.

"Can't say that I have," she said distractedly as unlocking the door was harder than it should have been with him hanging all over her.

He giggled sounding very boyish. "You don't know the fun you're missing."

She looked at his reddened eyes, his unsteady posture, his sweaty sheen, and knew he was probably moments away from relieving his stomach of its contents. "Yeah, you sure look like you're having a whole barrel of fun."

Having successfully opened the door, she led him over to the bed. He flopped onto it. She wasn't about to undress him. He'd just have to sleep in his clothes. She pulled the blanket up to cover him.

He grabbed her hand when it got close enough for him to reach. "You're beautiful, you know that? You look like an angel. You are an angel."

"And you really are drunk," she muttered half with amusement and half with irritation.

She didn't think he heard her because he had shut his eyes and fallen into a deep sleep.

He had thrown his jacket onto the floor on his way to the bed. She picked it up and reached into his inside pocket to get the silver flask she knew he kept there. It was still half-full.

She opened the window and let the liquid from the flask hit the dusty road. Then she did a thorough search of his room and found 2 more bottles. She emptied those too.

He would be angry when he woke up in the morning and found his liquor gone, but it was for his own good. Too much drink made people say and do things they wouldn't normally do, immoral and dangerous things, and it destroyed lives. And besides that, if people really drew on him as much as he said they did, he had no business being in an intoxicated state because even the fastest draw in the west wasn't fast when he was drunk. Just let him be angry. He didn't scare her one bit.


	11. Chapter 11

Kid woke up with a splitting headache. The morning light hit his eyes like daggers. He knew what would help fix that. He saw his jacket neatly folded over the chair and staggered toward it. It occurred to him to wonder why his jacket was draped so carefully when he usually threw it down any old place, but he didn't give it too much thought as he was eager for the flask. It felt abnormally light in his hand. He turned it upside down and failed to hear any sloshing. Empty. He unscrewed the lid just to check. Completely empty.

His eyes squinted in confusion and a hand moved to his pounding temple in hopes that he could still it to help him make sense of the situation. Remembering he had more whisky squirreled away for emergencies, he searched it out. Both bottles were empty. If he'd drank that much, he'd be dead. Somebody had done something with his whiskey.

Last night started coming back to him in bits and pieces. He groaned as he remembered grabbing Ruth. How was he supposed to face her after that little incident? He smiled to himself. He had liked the feel of her in his arms. It had felt so right even in his drunken haze. He remembered her taking him back here and putting him to bed. It seemed like maybe he had said something to her, but he couldn't remember what, which might haven been just as well.

"Ruth," he grumbled out loud. There was no doubt in his mind she had disposed of his alcohol.

He checked his pants pocket. She hadn't taken his money. He could go down to the saloon and buy a drink to soothe his headache. He cursed under his breath all the way over there and people gave him and his bad mood a wide berth.

"Whiskey," he groused to the bartender as he took a seat at the bar.

The bartender was quick in filling his order.

A couple of his drinking buddies from last night joined him one on each side with wide grins on their faces. They seemed to think one night of drinking together made them best friends.

Two of the saloon girls drew closer swaying and twirling in a graceful manner, no doubt at the orders of the owner who'd been missing Kid's money lately in that department; their dark Spanish eyes flashing enticingly, but the thought of being with them felt as sour to him in the wake of his sobriety as the whiskey that set in his stomach. All because a pair of blue eyes haunted him. He cursed again, which made his companions think he was ready for a conversation.

"Did you spend last night with that Catholic evangelist woman?" the one on his right asked. "Some folks saw her walking you back to your hotel room."

"If she's putting out, I'd like a turn when you're through with her," said the other.

"You spread rumors like that to sully her reputation and the only talking you'll be doing is to St. Peter," he said in a low, but serious voice, never even looking away from his glass.

"Easy, Kid. We were just funning with you," the one on his left said with a nervous laugh.

The other didn't have as much sense. "Don't tell me you're falling for a good girl. Them types like to have you wrapped around their pinky. They get a kick out of rehabilitating you. You get married to them and the first thing you know she's harping about your drinking and your fighting with a bunch of whiny brats in tow. Then she wants you to go to church every single Sunday. That ain't no kind of life."

"Who I do or do not fall for is none of your concern." He stood up. It was time to walk Ruth to the store and he didn't intend to waste any more of his time with these idiots.

sss

She was waiting for him in front of the boarding house, and they took off walking their usual route.

Instead of a good morning, he greeted her with, "You dumped out all of my whiskey."

"I did," she answered without hesitation.

Her honesty made him angrier than if she had tried to lie or skirt around the issue. "Why?

"The Lord made you for better things than to lay around in a drunken stupor while life passes you by. He's got His hand on you, Kid."

It grated on him, and it prickled his conscience because his mother had told him the same thing growing up. If he had a penny for every time she had told him 'the Lord's got His hand on you, son', he'd be a rich man right now. He'd swear she'd been in contact with her if he didn't know better. "And how would you know that?"

"I don't know His exact plan for you, but I do know He's got one. You're special to Him. All His children are."

Then she began to relay the funny conversation that had gone on at breakfast and she could do such funny dead-on impressions of her fellow boarders that he couldn't help smiling. Her bright chatter made it next to impossible for him to stew like he wanted to.

sss

Saturday evening rolled around, and he couldn't help being curious. As he drew closer to the backyard of the boarding house he could hear her singing. It was the first time he'd heard her singing voice. It wasn't the clearest tone he'd ever heard, but her singing had heart, and she had an adorable way of adding a growl into the toe-tapping melody that utterly charmed him.

"Alas, and did my Savior bleed? And did my Sovereign die?  
Would He devote that sacred head for such a worm as I  
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light  
And the burden of my heart rolled away  
It was there by faith I received my sight  
And now I am happy all the day."

She was clapping the beat as she sang and trying to encourage the others to join her. He'd never seen a person glow with so much inner joy. It was as if God was pouring love and happiness into her soul. Her eyes occasionally went upward as if she were singing only for Him.

Some of the boardinghouse chairs had been brought out for the event. He took a seat on one, and her smile grew wider when she saw him.

"Was it for crimes that I have done, He groaned upon the tree  
Amazing pity, grace unknown. And love beyond degree  
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light  
And the burden of my heart rolled away  
It was there by faith I received my sight  
And now I am happy all the day."

There were only a handful of people and that was counting him and Rosa, but she didn't seem phased by the low turnout. "Where 2 are gathered in my name," she began and the small gathering chorused, "Amen."

"Who comes to be healed today?" she asked.

"I do," said a thin, young man. He limped to the front as if he were much older than his 20-some years.

"Do you believe, brother, in the Lord Jesus Christ?"

"Since I was a small child," he answered her.

"Do you believe in His power to heal you?"

"I do, sister," he said more firmly than before.

She crouched down and put her hands on his legs. "Do you feel His power moving in you?" she asked.

The man's eyes widened. "I really do." He walked up and down in front of her, his stiffness apparently gone.

Kid felt his fists tighten. If he'd faked it in order to have Ruth's hands all over him, he'd be limping when he got through with him.

A woman that looked to be his mother stood up from her seat with tears of joy streaming down her face and she embraced the young man. Kid relaxed at the sight. He knew Ruth wouldn't be involved in such duplicity. Maybe something had happened.

"Is there anyone else who will be healed today?" she asked.

A man picked up his wife from her seat in the chair. The woman was pale. She looked eat up with whatever disease she had. Her husband had to carry her up to Ruth.

"Do you believe Jesus Christ is your one and only Savior?" she asked.

The woman gave a nod, the effort seeming to cause her pain.

"And you believe in His healing power?"

Again she gave a barely perceptible nod. Ruth took her hands in hers and said, "Do you feel His power in you?"

He watched as color returned to the woman's cheeks right in front of his eyes. Then she slowly got down on her feet until she was standing next to her husband. His eyes felt like they were about ready to pop put of his sockets. He was witnessing miracles right in front of his eyes.

She gave the call again, but no one else came up, and she dismissed the group with prayer. He could tell the others were as amazed as he was. She talked with the ones who had been healed, but he stuck around until she was through.

"I'm so glad you decided to come after all," she said beaming up at him.

"You were extraordinary," he told her, meaning it.

"I wasn't. God was," she said firmly. "It's Him and Him only that gave them healing. I was only an instrument."

He gave a shrug. He didn't want to delve into spiritual matters.

"I was a mite nervous. That's the first time I've ever led a meeting like that, but I knew He'd be with me."

"You couldn't tell it was your first one."

"Still think I'm crazy?" she asked with a grin.

"Absolutely," he answered.


	12. Chapter 12

Kid wasn't picking up Ruth as she'd already finished her job at the store a couple of days ago, but he walked the familiar path to the boardinghouse and though he told himself he was just letting his feet walk any which way they pleased, his heart told him he hoped he'd catch a glimpse of her as he missed their walks together. He caught her about halfway there.

"I thought you were finished with your job," he said accusingly, wondering if she had pretended to stop working there to put an end to seeing him.

"I am," she said, not slowing her steps. "I'm going to Miss Leon's. I heard she might need a hand at her place."

"Oh. She's…uh…well she…" Kid attempted to explain not sure how to phrase the matter delicately.

"She had a child out of wedlock. I know. I heard that too."

"You know, and you're still going to help her?"

"Of course." she answered without batting an eyelash. "She's a 15-year-old about the age of my little sister. Kids that age hardly ever have any sense anyway, but some fellow sweet talks a girl whose parents had just died and then leaves her with a baby and she's supposed to get all the blame? And besides that, the Lord tells us to forgive whatever the sin and wherever the fault lies. We're not called to condemn."

Respect for this woman grew tenfold. She actually practiced what she preached. "You ain't like any church lady I've met."

"Then you ain't met enough church ladies."

"Maybe not," he conceded. "I'll go with you. I know the way there."

"She doesn't live so far outside of town. I'm sure I can find it."

"It's no bother. I've nothing else planned."

"Suit yourself then," she told him.

The small house Miss Leon's parents had left her was in an obvious state of disrepair. Ruth wasted no time in going up to the door to knock. The young woman that answered looked weary. Her dress obviously hadn't been laundered in some time and her dark hair fell in a tangled mess from the haphazard bun she had tried to pin at some point during the morning. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ruth McKenzie."

"I've heard of you. There is almost as much gossip going around about you as there is about me."

"I don't doubt it," said an unperturbed Ruth. "This here is Kid."

"How do you do, ma'am," Kid said with a tip of his hat.

"Fine, gracias."

The baby swung his dirty, chubby fists toward Ruth and gurgled an introduction of his own. She smiled and took the baby from the young mother's arms after she received a nod of permission. The sight of Ruth with a baby gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling that made him very uncomfortable, but she looked so natural with a baby on her hip. It was easy to see that she was the type that kids instantly adored.

"What can I do to help you?" Ruth asked the girl.

Miss Leon appeared on the verge of tears. "You want to help me?"

"I hope you don't mind, but I know I'd want somebody to help me if I were in your shoes, and it's how we should show the love of God to each other. So can I do anything to help?"

"Well, I take in laundry and mending to help make ends meet. That's the fortunate thing about having all the single men around town, but it leaves me no time to tend to my garden."

"Say no more," she said, giving the baby back to his mother. "I'll take care of it."

Ruth went around to the back of the house to take a look at the garden. It was just a kitchen garden no more than an acre big with rows of beans, rhubarbs, lettuce, potatoes, but it was overrun with weeds, and the weeds threatened to choke the tender, young plants. She got to her knees and started pulling.

Rather than leaving, he got down on his knees with her. She smiled a smile of gratefulness. She set a furious pace for him to keep up with. She was obviously an old hat at this, and the way her hands sank into the dirt it was obviously something she enjoyed. It was apparently one more thing in the world she could set right. He'd never been much good with farming to his father's ire being more prone to daydreaming than the physical labor involved, but he strived to keep up with her so he could be near her.

The heat got hotter with each passing hour. She wiped her sweaty brow making a dirt streak across her nose and forehead. She couldn't have looked more beautiful to him if she had covered her face with rouge instead. He took a deep breath to steady his pounding pulse. He had to fight the urge he had to take her into his arms and taste her. A woman who could get as fired up and passionate about her God as she did was bound to be an amazing lover. A thought he knew was wicked but one that crossed his mind anyway.

She caught him staring at her this time and her face flushed. "I know I must look a sight."

"You do," he said with a grin. He looked down at her work dress: thread bare, patched, and a size or two too small, causing her form to be wonderfully highlighted. It was a sight he was enjoying very much.

"Well, I ain't going to get any prettier, so you can quit your staring," she said, sounding disgruntled.

"I'll do my best," he answered still grinning.

They took a short break for lunch. Rosa had packed enough lunch for two as if she'd anticipated somebody eating with Ruth. Miss Leon checked on them and invited them to lunch, but they told her they'd already ate, and she made them promise to stay for supper, so she could repay some of their work. They both gave their agreement and then went back to working.

They reached for the same weed at one point and his hand touched hers. They stared at each other for a couple moments and then she suddenly recoiled as if she had been burned by his touch.

"I'm leaving Santa Fe tomorrow," she announced as abruptly as she had taken her hand away.

Kid wondered why he felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. He had known this day was coming. Neither one of them had ever planned on staying in Santa Fe. "And what about Miss Leon? You show up to help her for one day and then you're gone. Some help you are."

"Rosa's promised to check in on her and help her when she can." A look of interest passed over her face. "Why? Do you like her?"

It bothered him that she was trying to play matchmaker, especially when he was sure she had felt the charge between them as much as he had. "I like women just fine, and Miss Leon's no exception, but I ain't the marrying kind."

"No, I didn't think you were," she said with certainty as she went back to weed-pulling.

There she went again. So sure she knew him. It annoyed him to no end. He threw his anger into the work until he exhausted it and by then evening had come at last. Between the two of them they'd got the garden done.

"You haven't saved any souls today, but you sure saved these plants," he teased, hoping to loosen a little of the tension that had been created between them.

"We did at that."

There was a bucket of water and a bar of soap sitting outside the house, and they took turns dipping their hands and scrubbing the dirt off.

"I've kind of missed having dirt under my nails. The clean nails were making me look like a layabout."

"I don't think anyone could accuse you of being lazy. In fact, I think someone needs to find a way to shut you off every now and then."

She laughed, and he followed her inside.

Miss Leon was scrambling to start supper while the baby sat on the floor crying for his mother.

"You sit and play with your sweet baby," Ruth said, laying a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'll take care of supper."

She shook her head. "You've done too much already."

"Nonsense. You'll be doing me a favor. Cooking's one of my favorite things to do, and I don't get to do it enough at the boardinghouse."

The woman rather reluctantly agreed, but she looked relieved too as she sat down on the floor with her baby.

Ruth must have been tired after gardening all day. He knew he was. It had been a couple years since he'd had to do farm work. Yet, she bustled around the kitchen as if she had the strength of 10 men, throwing a stew and biscuits together like it was nothing.

The smell soon filled the kitchen, and Ruth set the dishes on the table. Kid felt a little embarrassed that he didn't think of it. He could have helped her with that.

"I'm not much hungry what with that big lunch we had," he said when she set the bowl and a cup in front of him.

She grabbed the pitcher and poured him a glass of water, allowing her to bend down next to his ear. "You'll offend her if you don't eat," she whispered. The warm air from her breath tickled his ear, making it hard for him to concentrate on her words, but the message sunk in when she stood back up straight.

"On second thought, it sure does smell good. I'll force myself to eat some."

Miss Leon smiled as she and the baby joined them at the table.

He picked up his spoon and started to eat.

"We haven't said the blessing yet," Ruth told him. He had a feeling her tone would have been a lot sharper without Miss Leon and the baby to serve as a buffer.

She'd said grace at lunch, but she hadn't doled out the food until afterwards. He didn't mean to disregard her religion; it was simply a habit he had grown out of. He bowed his head and shut his eyes out of respect to her, but he felt like a hypocrite.

"We come to You, Father, not worthy to even speak Your name, but You promise that if we call to You with a right spirit, You will hear and forgive our sins. We ask You now to bless this food before us with grateful hearts. May it nourish our bodies, giving us the strength for our work. Bless the provider of this meal. May her garden this year flourish and yield an abundant crop to see them through winter. In your Son's precious name we pray. Amen."

"Amen," Kid echoed, glad the prayer was over. If it had been any longer, they would have starved to death, not daring to voice the amusing thought out loud.

He grabbed up a biscuit and dipped it into the stew. Ruth could cook. The simple biscuits were as light and fluffy as any he'd ever tasted. That boy she had back home was probably crying the blues that she'd escaped him.

Miss Leon walked them to the door after supper.

"I thought God couldn't love me anymore," she said as tears gathered in her eyes. "Thank you both for showing me that He hasn't forgotten me. I was at my wit's end before you showed up."

"Just remember the people of the community don't always speak for God even when they attend His house. God removes our sins from us as far as the east is from the west. He is able to forget our sins when the blood of Jesus Christ covers them."

"I'll remember," she promised.

Ruth hugged both the girl and baby. Ruth told her that Rosa had promised to visit as time allowed and then they left for the boardinghouse.

"I guess this is goodbye," she said to Kid when they reached their destination with a smile that he though might have been tinged with a little regret.

"I suppose so." To a casual observer his outward appearance showed no signs of having any feelings on the matter.

"Don't waste your life, Kid. Live for God. Give Him the strength and fire of your youth."

He snorted. "What would He want with me?"

"Everything. You're His dear child, and He loves you. His heart aches because He misses you. Don't you want to make things right with Him?"

"No, I don't," he said. He turned abruptly on his heels, leaving her standing there as she watched him run from her and God.


	13. Chapter 13

The whiskey burned Kid's throat, but it didn't dull the thoughts and feelings that tortured him. He should have given her a proper goodbye. He'd owed her that much after the shaky friendship they'd forged. Maybe if he had, their parting wouldn't be eating at him this way. She was all that he could think about.

He slapped the money to pay for his drink on the table and then went outside for a fresh breath of air. He took a deep breath, but it didn't invigorate him like he'd hoped. His spirit still felt as heavy. He took off on a brisk walk and found himself at the boardinghouse. He didn't know why he had ended up there. He knew she was gone.

He spotted Rosa hanging sheets out back and went over to her. She didn't seem surprised to see him. She barely glanced at him, in fact. She kept working while he stood there feeling a little idiotic for even being there.

"She left, you know. This morning," Rosa said. "She's going further out west. She longs to go deeper into the territory where there is even more need for medical and spiritual help than Santa Fe."

"I know," he said, pulling a wet sheet out of the basket for her.

"She seems to have a true calling. One day her name might be as well-known as yours."

"She wouldn't be happy with that. She wants God to have the credit for everything."

"True. If she was Catholic, she would be well on the road to sainthood."

"Yeah, the patron saint of bossiness or is that one already taken?"

"I don't think so," answered the smiling Rosa. "I know we have not known each other for very long, Kid, but I knew you were a good boy from the first. It's not everyone who will help a complete stranger the way you did."

"Well, I could see that no good boarder was giving you trouble. He deserved to be sent packing. You got to be more careful who you take in."

"I have been after him, and I've been making sure they pay first thing."

"Good," he said.

"My point was that you may be wild but deep down your heart hungers for one good woman you can spend the rest of your life with the way God intended."

"Even if that were true, a good woman wouldn't have me. I've made too many mistakes."

"A Christian woman knows how to forgive," Rosa said, picking up the now empty basket.

"If you're trying to play cupid, it's too late. She's gone."

"And you're miserable without her," she said, stating the obvious.

"I'm miserable with her," he grumbled halfheartedly.

"Who are you trying to kid? I've seen the sparks flying between you two, sparks of passion and sparks of anger, you'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to, which means you care about each other."

"I can't speak for her, but I do love her. I love her so much it's about to drive me crazy. I can't sleep at night for thinking about her. I can't look at another woman without comparing her to Ruth. I miss her so much right now that I don't even know how I'm going to live the rest of my life without her."

"Then what are you waiting for? Go find her before she's truly lost to you."

He knew she was right the moment she said it. He didn't know why it'd taken him so long to figure it out, but maybe his trip to the boardinghouse hadn't been wasted after all.

He rushed off after a goodbye and a thank you. With a sign of the cross, she prayed that he wasn't too late.

At the hotel, he settled his bill and checked out. Then he threw his stuff together, which fortunately didn't amount to much and took only a minute or two and then his feet barely touched the ground as he flew to the livery for his horse.

His horse was already saddled and ready. The liveryman wore a knowing smile that would have irritated him if he wasn't so keyed up on getting to Ruth. The man apparently hadn't missed much, English or no English, or Rosa had notified him that he was coming. Maybe it was a bit of both.

After a short nod of thanks to the liveryman, he got up on his dark brown horse and rode out of Santa Fe, leaving a cloud of his dust in his wake.

As eager as he was to get to her, he tried not to ride his horse too hard, and he had to take careful note of his surroundings to ensure that he was on her trail.

He had picked up from Ruth that she was heading north along the Rio Grande, avoiding going through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains though they flanked both side of the river. It was smart of her he had to admit staying close to a water source. This part of the country had stretches of desert, and it wouldn't be good to find one's self without water.

He occasionally came upon crushed grass and once he was even positive he spotted her footprints along the riverbank where she must have stopped to enjoy her lunch, causing him to be surer than ever that he was following the right path. Yet, he would feel enormous relief to see her with his own two eyes.

He knew she couldn't have gotten too far on that old horse of hers, but he was beginning to feel disheartened when late evening drew near and there was still no sign of her, but finally he thought he saw a rider in the distance, he urged his horse into a gallop and the largening figure proved to be Ruth.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the sight of him. "What in the world? What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you. I'm going to marry you," he announced unmistakably serious.

He was certain she would have fallen off her horse if she hadn't become so accomplished a rider. Instead, she stared at him like he'd lost his mind and maybe he had. Maybe he shouldn't have laid his cards out on the table like that, but there was no sense in hiding the way he felt now that he was sure, and he was determined that he was going to marry Ruth McKenzie someday because he knew even after so brief a separation that he couldn't live without her.


	14. Chapter 14

"What did you say?" Ruth asked, not quite sure she could believe her ears.

"You heard me. You and I are going to get married." He sounded as sure of it as he was that the sun the rose in the east and set in the west.

She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it if he hadn't looked so serious about it. "We can't get married. You look like you've barely started shaving. How old are you anyway? 17?"

"18. I'll be 19 in a few months."

"I'm going to be 21 in 2 weeks," she said as if that settled it.

"You must have come over on the Mayflower then. Where's your rocking chair, mother?" he said teasingly. "The age difference doesn't bother me. Why should it bother you? People ain't going to know it just by looking at us."

"It's not just the age. There's a 100 reasons why we shouldn't be together."

"Really? I'd like to hear them all."

"Well, for starters there's the liquor and the women."

"I could give them both up if it meant having you."

"You say that, but it's easier said than done. Habits are hard to break and those are both powerful addictions."

"You underestimate my feelings for you and my willpower. What else do you think keeps us apart?"

"I couldn't share a life with somebody who didn't love God as much or more than I do. I belong to the Lord first and foremost. My husband would have to belong to him too."

"I promise I'll attend church with you in the next town if that's what makes you happy."

"That's not enough. That wouldn't be turning to God. That would be going through the motions for my sake, which wouldn't be enough for me or for God. And the truth of the matter is, even if all these obstacles were removed, I'm just not looking to get married. The Bible says that the person who doesn't marry does better and is happier than the one who does because they only need to please the Lord and devote themselves to Him. That's what I want. To devote my life to the Lord and His work."

"The same passage also says it's better to marry than to burn with passion."

She was surprised by his knowledge of the Bible and annoyed that he'd implied that she did. "That's mighty presumptuous of you to think that I burn for you."

His eyes danced as if he knew he'd hit a nerve. "Yet, you don't deny it."

"Because it doesn't deserve a response. I've made it plain how I feel on the subject." He was certainly a handsome man. That she couldn't deny. His soulful, dark eyes had troubled her on more than one occasion, so much so that she knew it would be dangerous to look into them for very long. His face had character and he had character. There were many things about him to admire and respect. Still, she wouldn't be deterred from her life's purpose by a good-looking, godless man however tempting he proved to be. "So now that you know I haven't the inclination for love or marriage, what are you going to do? You going to head back to Santa Fe?"

"I'll wait," he said calmly like he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"On what?" demanded the incensed Ruth.

"On you. I'd wait a lifetime if I had to."

She felt dangerously close to saying something not so godly. The man was beyond infuriating. "So your plan is to follow me around then like some kind of puppy?"

"More like a guard dog. I plan to make sure you don't get yourself killed before you see you were meant to be my bride."

Not trusting herself to say another word, she urged Carmel to move faster in an attempt to move ahead of him and away from this pointless conversation, which didn't happen after the long day the horse had put in.

"It's almost completely dark, Ruth. We better set up camp," he said, bringing his horse to a halt. "There's a suitable clearing over there."

"I can't spend the night with you," she said, the shock evident in her voice as she turned Carmel around to look him head-on.

"As much as I'd like to be with you, I promise to keep a respectful distance."

"It's not only that. What will people think of us, riding trough the wilderness together alone, sharing the same campfire?"

"They'll think we're lovers," he said, giving her the honest answer. "Unless you tell them we're sister and brother, which you won't."

"Of course not. I couldn't lie. What kind of witness would that be?"

"Then they'll make up the lie for themselves. People want to think the worst. It makes life more exciting for them and makes them feel a little more righteous."

It was a true observation, and she knew it. "That's exactly why we can't travel together."

"I thought it didn't matter what anyone thinks except for the Lord, and He'll know no sin was committed."

"True, but we're commanded to abstain from all appearances of evil."

His head moved toward the trees. "There's wild animals out there like I've told you, and I know you're too stubborn to have gotten a gun. You need me with you."

As if on cue, a mountain lion screamed from somewhere in the distance, causing Ruth to stiffen as a chill of terror raced through her body. "Well, if you're so determined, I suppose it wouldn't hurt for a short while."

She got down from her horse first and he followed her lead. As night fell completely, the heat of the day was soon forgotten with such frigid air replacing it. Kid immediately set to work building a fire to keep them warm while Ruth got out the food and her bedroll. They ate the tasteless bread and jerky in silence.

After eating, he went over to the tethered horses. He gave a dry laugh when he saw them; they were huddling close together. "I'm glad at least our horses have hit it off. Maybe they've got the right idea about keeping warm."

"Don't even joke about such a thing," she said, not the least bit amused.

He pulled his guitar from his things. "Who's joking?"

"You play guitar?" she asked unable to hide her look of disbelief

"Is that so astonishing?" he asked with a small smile.

"A little. I thought you were a rugged, gun slinging cowboy. A guitar don't exactly fit into your manly image, does it?"

"I think you'll find that past the hardened exterior, I have the soul of a poet."

"Where'd you learn to play?" she asked, not able to quell her curiosity about this new side of him.

"Nowhere. I taught myself," he told her as he settled back onto his own roll.

"Huh. Well, maybe you got the soul of a musician anyway," she said.

He smiled in return and after a quick strum to see if the strings were still in tune, he began to play, adding his voice to the chords.

"Love's eyes are so enchanting,  
Bright, smiling, soft and granting,  
Pulses play at every ray,  
And hearts at every glance are panting.  
Before the beamy eye of morn  
We view the clouds of night receding;  
So tender glances banish scorn,  
For who can frown while Love is pleading?

Love's eyes are so enchanting,  
No bandage can those eyes conceal,  
Though bards in fabled tales rehearse it;  
For if we wore a mask of steel,  
Affection's ardent gaze would pierce it.  
Love's eyes are so enchanting."

It was much better than his drunk warbling, and the depth of emotion in his voice and the lyrics made her feel warm despite the cold night air. She wasn't happy with herself for watching the way the firelight danced on his strong features or for falling under the spell of his song. It all painted entirely too romantic a scene that could cause a person to think they'd lost their heart. She was beginning to wish she had taken her chances with the mountain lion.

"I'm tired, Kid. I'm going to turn in if you don't mind." She immediately lay down and turned away from him, not even daring to take her hair down in front of him.

"Don't worry. I couldn't try anything during the night if I wanted to what with this fire between us." She could hear the smile in his voice.

He continued to play softly, adding only a hum to the tune. She had thought her first night of sleeping in the wilderness would be hard, but his baritone voice served to lull her into a heavy, peaceful sleep. She only hoped her heart wouldn't succumb to his offer of love as easily as she had to his music.


End file.
